Three of a Perfect Pair
by nylazor
Summary: What if instead of bleeding out in Buccellati's body, Doppio lived and was taken by Giorno to help mold Passione into the gang that Giorno wanted?
1. Chapter 1

When Doppio awoke he was surrounded by traitors, Giorno, the newest member of the gang, was hovering over him, Trish, the boss' daughter was looking at him from a distance, and Mista, the gunman was pointing the pistol right at his face.

"If you think of moving a muscle, well, don't think about it," Mista commanded aggressively.

Doppio jumped up, startled; pain spreading through his body as he managed to sit up into a relative sitting position.

"What did I say about moving?" Mista demanded.

Doppio was so confused, least of all because he was wearing an outfit he wasn't before. He wasn't quite sure, but he felt he was slightly _shorter_ than he was previously, too. There were more important things to worry about though, like 'what happened to the boss?'. If the traitors were here, it meant the boss had gotten away, didn't it? He couldn't bear to think of the other explanation.

"What's your name?" Giorno's voice pierced through his thoughts like an arrow.

"D-Doppio! Vinegar Doppio." Doppio replied quickly. "But you must be mistaken, I haven't done anything wrong! Please, stop pointing that gun at me!"

"You're wrong! You helped the Boss! People are dead because of you! Narancia, Abbacchio, and even Buccellati! He would still be alive if you hadn't killed him!" Accused Mista.

"I don't think that's right," cried Doppio alarmed. "I didn't hurt any of those people, the boss did! I would never lay a finger on anyone unless the boss says it's absolutely necessary."

"Yeah right, you bastard, you-" Mista began.

"Mista, we can interrogate him to our hearts' content later, but right now he's inhabiting a rotting body and if he's going to be any use to us, we need to get him out of there." Giorno gestured behind him and Doppio's eyes followed.

There, lying behind Giorno, was a man with pink hair and tattoos covering his arms and a mesh shirt on his torso. His face looked slightly familiar, if a bit odd. It took Doppio some staring to realize that it was his own face, and that it looked odd because it was more mature than his, lines of age creasing a face that was creepily similar to his own.

"When Requiem activated, you felt a pulling sensation, correct? Well that was your soul trying to go return to its original body. Its effect switched people's souls but we defeated it. You should just be able to let go and return to your body," Giorno explained.

Doppio was very confused.

"Why are you doing this? T-the boss is going to kill you… I shouldn't even be listening to you!" Doppio clapped his hands over his ears. "The boss is going to call any minute now, I know it!"

"This guy really is over the cuckoo's nest!" Mista laughed, loosening his grip on his pistol. "He doesn't even know-"

"Enough," Giorno interrupted. "Doppio, the body you're in is- well was, Buccellati's, but it's a miracle it lasted as long as it did. It's falling apart and not even I can fix it, so if you don't return to your own body soon, his corpse will become your crypt."

Despite his best efforts, Doppio could hear them through his hands and he was scared. He wondered, " _what would the boss do?_ ". He was willing to die for the boss of course, but this seemed pointless. If he could just hold on until the boss called him, maybe then he'd receive the guidance he so desperately needed. Anyway, it was _his_ body, he had nothing to lose returning to it and nothing to gain by staying in this dying one. He closed his eyes and released his grip, and everything went black.

Mista had managed to deter the police from investigating the whole incident, with three dead bodies Giorno had no idea how, but he was sure it involve the words "Passione" and "business". Doppio was meekly waiting with Mista and Trish as Giorno went to get a car, Giorno had taken Buccellati's wallet, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have minded.

When Giorno came back driving a rental Doppio had retrieved his sweater, maybe it was his posture, but he seemed to have shrunk, his hair was up and he was crouched on the ground, hands wrapped around his knees. He looked pathetic Giorno had to admit, and it didn't help that Trish couldn't seem to keep her eyes off Doppio. Giorno couldn't blame her, that was her father- well the body of her father anyway. He pulled up and put the car in park beside them. Trish got in the front while Mista opened the back door and gestured for Doppio to get in, when Doppio hesitated Mista grabbed his shoulder and roughly shoved him in.

"Ahhhhh! Don't touch me! Please!" Doppio scuttled into the back seat and pressed himself up against the other door as if trying to get as much distance as possible between him and Mista. "I'm doing what you say, just p-please don't touch me!"

He looked like he had tears in his eyes as he curled into a ball.

"God, what a pansy I barely shoved you." Mista grumbled as he followed Doppio into the back seat and settled in.

Giorno guided the car onto the main road. Mista had arranged for the three bodies to be collected and sent to their home town, until then Giorno needed to act quickly to fill the power vacuum that had just been created. He heard a small muttering behind him and turned his head slightly to try to hear what Doppio was saying.

"-all of you. And he'll save me. Yeah. Yeah! He'll kill all of you and save me, he's coming, he wouldn't abandon me, he wouldn't! I'm his most trusted subordinate. That's what he says all the time. He can trust me. I'm going to be okay. I just have to wait for the call. The boss will call me and tell me what to do. Yeah, yeah! It's gonna be ok. Just gotta trust the boss. Noone can defeat his King Crimson! I just gotta hold on. I can do it!"

Giorno returned his focus to the road, it was a long drive and he was sure that Doppio would calm down and quit muttering eventually.

He didn't.

After an hour Doppio was hoarse of his constant talking and was making awful scratching sounds, and coughing frequently. Giorno felt a bit bad for him, he was believing in someone who would never come. For the last half an hour the only thing Doppio was saying was 'he should have called by now' over and over and Giorno assumed that that was how he and Diavolo had communicated, through phone calls. Mista had started blasting some music over the radio to drown out the muttering but as Mista increased the volume, so did the volume of Doppio's muttering until he was yelling about the boss. Trish was covering her ears.

"That's it." Mista reached into the front seat and turned off the radio, immediately Doppio's talking went back to a whisper. "You know why the fucking boss isn't gonna call? It's because he's dead. Gold Experience Requiem got rid of him! And anyway, he wasn't even calling you! He was a different person in the same fucking body! You're not even a real person! You're a personality of some psycho! So just shut the fuck up!"

Doppio went quiet and Giorno groaned internally, he was going to break all that to Doppio gently, the guy didn't seem to have the best mental stability. Doppio was quiet for awhile until he finally croaked out.

"You're lying."

"It's true, Polneraff told us before he-" Mista began.

"Before he died." Giorno finished cutting off Mista. "Polneraff was the person we were meeting in the coliseum. You and Diavolo, the boss, shared a body."

Giorno pulled into a fast food place as Doppio contemplated what he had said, seemingly stunned.

"I can't drive much longer without food and coffee. Give me your orders and I'll get us something."

Mista and Trish obliged but Doppio remained silent, his head buried in his arms.

"Hey," Giorno reached out to touch him but thought better of it. "Doppio you're no use to us dead."

Doppio's head rose a smidgen, Giorno heard a shaky breath before a loud cry exited the man. Doppio began full on sobbing, huffing fast to try to breath despite the convulsions his chest was making.

"Oh Doppio." Trish reached out but didn't quite touch him. "I'm sorry Doppio"

Giorno quietly got out of the car to get breakfast. When he returned Doppio was making harsh dry sobs. Giorno passed out the food until he was left with his and Doppio's portion.

"Doppio I understand you're upset but please eat, or at least drink, you'll feel better."

Doppio went hushed and took some deep shaky breaths. He looked up at Giorno with big, pink eyes, watery and red from crying. He unsteadily took the water bottle, untwisted the cap and took three big gulps of water.

"It's just, i-it makes so much sense, but at the same time I don't want it to be true." Doppio blubbered "The boss was my only friend for as long as I can remember and now he's gone, I-I-I don't know what to do!"

Mista chewed on his food grumbly staring at the pink haired man, his hand never straying far from the pistol he had taken from the police officer.

"You really don't remember? You shared a body for God's sake!" He snorted.

"He only ever communicated through phone calls, but I guess those weren't real." Mumbled Doppio. "I can remember a bunch of signs, waking up in places I've never been, people recognizing me that I never met, and writing I didn't know where it came from. Thinking back, it all makes sense, I just didn't put the pieces together."

"How would you like a fresh start?" Giorno asked. "The boss lied to you from day one, he used you to hide his identity, he put you in unnecessary danger, I know you trusted him, but is he really that great with this new information?"

Doppio shook his head, trying to deny the truth. "He did lie to me, didn't he?"

"I, Giorno Giovanna, have a dream," stated Giorno. "A dream to free this country of narcotics, I want to rule Passione to stop the drug trade, drugs are insidious things, they poison people's minds and actions. If I were to become the boss I could make sure no one would sell drugs under my rule. I could use your help Doppio; the old boss may have betrayed you but I believe you have amazing potential and I could really use that."

"But how could I help? I don't have a stand." Doppio took the sandwich Giorno had offered him and began eating.

"I'm not sure about that," Giorno mused. "But you have connections that I could use, you're the go between the boss and the higher ups, that keep continuity in the ranks, make my transition to power easier and you seem like a good guy, very loyal, I could use that."

"What?" Mista exclaimed. "You're not thinking of working with this guy, are you Giorno? He helped kill Narancia, Abbacchio, Buccellati, and God knows who else. The kids crazy and can't be trusted we should give him to the system so they can lock him up and throw away the key."

"I'm not sure he did help kill those people, remember Diavolo was the one who killed those three, it sounds like Doppio was the grunt work and Diavolo was the muscle." Giorno turns his eyes to weigh on the cowering man, clutching the water bottle to himself. "Did you kill them Doppio?"

"N-no." He stuttered. "Th-the boss did that."

"Same difference." Mista said, glaring daggers at Doppio. "Same body, same culprit, you're not seriously thinking of trusting this guy, right Giorno? Just use him to get info on the boss and then kill him."

Doppio flinched and repeatedly screwed the cap of the water bottle on then off as if to distract himself from his perceived imminent death.

"Trust is something earned" Giorno replied, his eyes never leaving Doppio. "But I think Doppio will help us, after all who is he going to betray us to, Diavolo is dead."

Doppio started to screw the cap on and off faster, his brow knotted with concentration.

"Revenge." Commented Trish.

"He doesn't seem like the type." Giorno said simply. "Doppio."

Doppio jumped and spilled water on himself.

"Y-y-yes?" He began to pat the water dry with his hands anxiously.

"What do you say, will you work for me?" Giorno held out his hand for shaking.

Doppio stared at it balefully, before hesitantly taking it and gently shaking it.

"Yes sir." He mumbled.

Giorno thought of Buccellati. "Don't call me sir, call me Giogio."


	2. Chapter 2

Doppio had quietly waited in the back of the car trying to ignore the pink haired girl that was staring at him, that was the boss', no that was _his_ daughter. Well the body's daughter anyway. After a while he finally burst.

"Why are you staring at me!?"

Trish hesitated and looked caught between a rock and hard place.

"You're, you're all that's left of my family. And you're pretty pathetic."

Doppio looked at his hands and nodded.

"I'm nothing without the boss" He said morosely.

"So, you can't tell me anything about my mother?" Trish asked.

"I don't even know who your mother was." Doppio looked miserable with the amount of attention he was getting.

Trish turned away from Doppio to watch the landscape go by.

"I'm not sure how I should feel about you." She said. "I was fine with my mother raising me alone, I never intended to meet my father, it's my father's fault I got into this mess and you're not even my father."

Doppio was squirming under the weight of the conversation.

"I should hate you," she continued, "you upended my life and kill people that were protecting me, but as it is I can't seem to bring myself to feel any strong emotions toward you. You're just kinda there."

"I'm sorry the boss did those things." Doppio responded quietly, taking a small sip of his water bottle. "I have no memories of them so I don't know. But I'm sorry."

"You can't really expect us to see you as innocent just because it was a different personality, right Giorno?" Snorted Mista.

"Smarter people than me can debate that," Giorno replied, "but as of right now I need all the help I can get."

Doppio seemed to shrink into himself folding his legs under him and staring sadly out the window.

"What's the plan then?" Asked Mista. "We're just going to march into Passione headquarters and say 'we killed your boss now we're the boss'?"

"I don't think it's quite that simple," Giorno mused. "Maybe we shouldn't tell them we killed the boss at all, that would start an uproar, it'd be smarter if we claimed I was the boss of Passione the entire time. With Doppio to back me up no one can deny it, sounds like he was the go between for the boss and the higher ups, right Doppio?"

"We're about to get hit by a car!" Shouted Doppio.

"Wait, what?" Mista questioned.

"Do something! It's gonna hit us!" Doppio cried bracing for something.

"Spice Girl!" Trish cried.

The car slowed as Spice Girl put her hand on the car and made it malleable. All at once a car driving on the other side of the road veered into their lane and collided with their car, the car absorbed the impact and then bounced backward. The other car swerved to the other side of the road and ran into a telephone poll.

"What the hell was that? That guy's clearly drunk." Trish yelled.

Giorno got the car back under control and returned to driving towards their destination.

"Nice quick thinking Trish." Giorno congratulated her before turning his eyes to Doppio. "Looks like you're not so useless without the boss after all, how'd you do that?"

"It was something I thought the boss gave me. I thought he lent me his powers but I guess, I guess part of King Crimson is mine. I can see 10 seconds in the future." Doppio pondered. "What about you? How did we survive that car crash?"

"Spice Girl can make things soft, make them unbreakable, as it were." Trish said.

"Wow, that's… incredible Miss Una." Doppio gasped, amazed.

"Thanks Doppio," Trish paused and looked towards him. "Your ability is pretty cool too. Thanks for saving us."

Doppio looked up at Trish for the first time since he had been revived by Giorno, and he felt something blossoming within his chest. He smiled at her, and she smiled right back.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the drive was uneventful, they managed to get Passione's home base before sunrise. Trish and Doppio had solidly fallen asleep. Mista had taken over driving and Giorno watched the landscape fly by. They came to a hotel in what was Buccellati's territory. Mista nudged Trish to get her to wake up who grudgingly got out of the car. Giorno tapped Doppio only for the teen to jump up and yell, he hit his head on the roof and curled against the door.

Mista somehow thought it was a good idea to open the car door on Doppio's side causing him to collapse onto the pavement. He flipped onto his back and scrambled upright. He was breathing very hard, eyes darting around wildly.

Giorno had exited the car and glanced at Mista, clearly unimpressed. Mista snickered.

"It's alright, Doppio, you're here, you're fine."

Doppio began panting. "Oh god the boss is dead, oh god it wasn't just a nightmare, oh god, oh god."

Giorno gestured Trish and Mista away, before he turned to Doppio. "I know it's scary but everything is going to be fine, just…"

But Doppio was taking deep shuddering breaths, gasping for air as if he couldn't breathe.

"Doppio!" Giorno yelled.

Doppio continued to breath raggedly, panting so fast there wasn't a moment for Giorno to interrupt.

Giorno grabbed both of Doppio's shoulders and "You need to calm down, slow down you're breathing." He said firmly.

"I… Can't… breathe!" Doppio gasped between breaths.

Giorno dug his fingers into Doppio's shoulders. Doppio glanced up, eyes wide with panic. "You need to breathe with me! In…"

Doppio hazarded a shaky breath in.

"Out…"

He huffed out.

Giorno repeated this for a minute. "There. Are you ok?"

"Of course I'm not f-fucking ok! Why w-would I be ok! The boss is dead! I'm all alone! With… you! With our enemies!" Doppio wailed.

Giorno sighed. "Ok, but you're breathing ok now?"

Doppio looked at him suspiciously. "I… yes."

Giorno let go of him. "Come on, we can talk in the room."

Doppio looked like he was going to protest, but thought better of it and quietly followed.

Mista waited in the lobby, arms folded. When he saw Doppio he narrowed his eyes, only to glance back up at Giorno when the blond waved at him.

"How many rooms did you get?" He asked.

Mista shifted. "Two, figured I'd guard pinky over there and you could guard Trish."

Giorno looked at him with disbelief. "After what just happened? You clearly don't understand how to deal with him at all."

Doppio flushed at being called "to deal with" but Giorno continued. "I want him on our side, I've had enough of death, he can help, I'm certain of it, but we need…" Giornio glanced at Doppio and lowered his voice. "We need to build trust and that doesn't happen by you fucking with him. He's clearly mentally unstable and until I figure out how he ticks, I can't have you mess this up."

Mista scowled. "Fine."

Giorno snatched a room key from Mista and walked toward the stairs. "Go room with Trish, Doppio?"

Doppio was shivering despite the weather and that he was wearing a sweater. Something was building in his chest, like something was pushing against his lungs, something cold. He swallowed and tried to focus on his breathing.

"Doppio!" He flinched at the sound only to glance up, one eye still closed in fear. Giorno was by the stairs, looking at him expectantly. Doppio glanced around nervously, but decided against trying to run with Mista staring daggers at him, hand on his waistband.

Doppio walked up to Giorno and bowed his head, waiting for the blow that didn't come. Instead the young boss told him they were going to share a room and walked up the stairs. Dumbfounded by the lack of violence Doppio trotted up the stairs. He followed Giorno to their room obediently sitting on one of the beds, head down, shoulders hunched.

Giorno sat down next to him and he felt himself tense. The young man stemmed to notice as he got up and pulled a chair from across the room and put it in front Doppio and sat down.

"So." Giorno said conversationally.

Doppio said nothing, stoutly looking at his hands and chewing his lip.

"You agreed to serve me in the car, now that Mista isn't around to intimidate you, do you still agree."

Doppio's eyes widened at the perceived threat. His eyes dashed around searching his lap for answers. His thoughts racing. If he said no… was he going to die? He couldn't die. He was afraid to die. He was so scared. Oh god. He was going to die! But wait! He could.. lie? Right! He could lie! Divalio often touted deceptions benefits, not to him obviously but to subordinates. But wait, Divalio did lie to him! He didn't tell them they shared a body! And who knows what else. The boss- Divalio, he had lied! And left him! He had left him and now he was alone with these… strangers! What was he going to do! He could join them… but… wouldn't that be betraying the boss? But didn't the boss already betray him? Afterall he didn't tell him about so much! And he used him! And-

Giorno cleared his throat and Doppio was pulled out of his thoughts. He glanced up and gasped. "I think you… bit through your lip."

Doppio blinked. He reached up and touched his lip, it came away red. Ah, he could taste it too, iron, bitter.

"If you want I can heal it…" Giorno reached forward and Doppio flinched back. "Or… not."

Doppio frowned. "Dammit! S-stupid! So stupid! I- I don't know why I keep flinching and tensing! I- I don't mean to! But… so stupid, stupid. Stupid. Stu-"

"Hey!" Giorno said. "I don't mind, I won't touch you, no one will if that's how you want it. So what if your jumpy, I care about what you can do, and if you stutter and flinch through life that doesn't stop you does it?"

Doppio focused in on Giorno's bright blue eyes. He felt his stomach heave and he forced his eyes back down.

"You don't like eye contact either huh?" Giorno leaned forward gently. "We can work with that."

"I'm sorry Giogio, it's just… whenever I look someone in the eye I feel sick. And I don't know why I flinch, my intuition says it has to do with my past."

Giorno nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Doppio laughed nervously. "I wish I could!" Giorno frowned. "I want to! But I don't… I don't remember… I try, I do. But it's kinda blurry and dark. It didn't used to bother me. I just woke up one day and the boss called me and… he's been guiding my life ever since."

Giorno stared at him, eyes wide, unsure of what to say.

"...sorry. whatever happened back then… I… it probably turned me into this nervous wreck." He giggled, or maybe it was a sob.

Giorno sighed and leaned back. "Well that throws a wrench in my plans. I was hoping I could turn you against Divalio, but he's all you've ever known. So you really don't have any ambition?"

Doppio glared at the ground. "No… sorry."

"Don't you want any, do you really think you can drift through life like this? You have a stand, and stand users are drawn to each other, you'll probably run into another one eventually."

Doppio curled in on himself, making himself even smaller than he was. "I don't know. Please just tell me what to do. I only know how to follow orders. If you really want to be the boss then tell me what to do! I'm good at doing what I'm told! It's all I'm good for anyhow." He started gnawing on his lip, the sharp pain helping him focus.

"But that's not what I want. I don't want pawns, I want people who follow me to help me and help themselves. I want a fellowship."

"Well I want you to tell me what to do, I've never made my own decisions! Don't make me choose!"

Giorno centred himself. This was more difficult then he was hoping for. "If you've never made a decision, let's start. I think you can help me so I'll help you." He got up and gestured for Doppio to stand.

Doppio stood uncertainly and shuffled beside him.

"Choose a bed."

Doppio stiffened and turned to stare at Giorno in horror.

Giorno scratched his head. The beds were identical. Standard hotel double beds, with drab plant patterns on the covers. Doppio walked between them and felt each bed. Then felt the pillows. He glanced under the covers, and felt the sheets. He turned to stare bewildered at the blond like Giorno was going to tell at him or laugh.

"I… I can't decide, they're the same." Doppio reported solemnly.

Giorno nodded slowly. "I know. But neither of us care, and it doesn't matter particularly at all. I won't get mad no matter what you choose. So choose."

Doppio looked convincingly distressed as he glanced helplessly between them. "Um… do I have to."

"Yes." He said patiently.

Doppio looked slightly panicked before he sat on the bed closest to the door "This one." He said, still unsure.

Giorno nodded and started to undress.

Doppio fidgeted and kept glancing furtively at him. Giorno went to the bathroom and showered. When he exited, cleaned and refreshed. Doppio had shifted to stare at the bathroom door from his chosen bed. When Giorno exited the bathroom, he glanced curiously and Doppio's head snapped down so he was staring at the covers.

"Do you… do you want something?"

"Uh… did I make the right choice?" Doppio asked, tracing patterns on the covers.

Giorno blinked stupidly for a moment before he said. "Doppio… there was no right choice… or, I suppose they were both right, it didn't matter which you chose. I would be happy with either."

Doppio frowned like this was an incredibly complex question.

Giorno sighed and collapsed on the bed by the window. "Look it's been an insanely long day, I'm exhausted, I'm going to sleep. You can shower if you want." He exhaled heavily. "Do what you want."

Doppio stared at the sleeping Giorno, he had a lot to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

Doppio was curled up in a chair, staring balefully at Giorno. Giorno was working on paperwork that the gang had provided him with. He read through it, signing where necessary. Doppio supposed the boss used to do stuff like that. The whole power exchange had gone over flawlessly; After Doppio had introduced Giorno as the head of power, his identity as the boss was accepted. Though there were doubts, no one outright refused to bow. After all, everyone knew that Doppio was the only one who had ever met the boss, and if Doppio was confirming it, who could argue?

Giorno flipped the page over, turning his head slightly to scan the new page. Doppio fidgeted, uncomfortable with being so useless. Well, not useless, he reminded himself, he was protecting Giorno. He made it very clear that Doppio wasn't useless. Doppio shifted his position slightly and chewed on his nails a bit. Perhaps useless wasn't the right word… perhaps it was boredom? Doppio _had_ been sitting in that chair for what felt like hours. He now realized that he usually had gaps in his memory. Before he could stare off into space and lose track of time, just drift through his consciousness. Ever since the boss had been separated from him, he seemed to have lost the ability. Everything was slow now. Everything seemed to take more time and was so much more _real_ now. Doppio hated it. He felt like he had to live out every second to its most extreme. He _tried_ to drift off, no luck. Not because he wanted to shirk his responsibility of course. He was very grateful to Giorno and the others for saving him. And he was sure his ability to would activate if he or Giorno was in any danger. No, he was not ignoring his job to protect Giorno, he was just trying to make the painful boredom stop. The excruciating dullness rang through his head as though it was a knife. Nothing was occupying his mind. Nothing was taking the edge off the distress that was his mind.

Giorno yawned and look up at Doppio. His discomfort must have been obvious, because Giorno said:

"Wanna take a break? Coffee?"

Doppio leapt up off his chair so fast that he stumbled.

"Oh yes!" He enthused.

Giorno slowly laid the papers down and got up. He walked over to his office door and held it open for Doppio. Doppio felt stupid, wasn't that his job? Giorno shouldn't be holding doors open, he was the new boss. Stupid. Stupid. Should have been faster. Should've thought ahead.

"Thank you," he muttered.

He hurried through the door and quickly walked to the break room and held open the door for Giorno. Good. Good. He wasn't so bad afterall. Giorno entered and went straight for the coffee machine pouring himself and Doppio a cup. Giorno took his coffee black, while Doppio put three lumps of sugar in his and enough cream to make it almost white. Giorno just sat down with a sigh when Mista burst in. Doppio jumped so hard he dropped his coffee.

"Boss! We got a problem it's-" Mista started but he stopped when he saw

Doppio. He was panicking and picking up the cup pieces, as it had shattered when it fell. Loud huffing noises and sniffing slipped from Doppio's crouched figure.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no." He was mumbling.

Giorno stood up and walked over to Doppio leaning down beside him.

"Can it wait a minute?" Giorno asked, half turning to Mista.

"Uh yeah, but…"

"It's okay, Doppio, it's just a cup," Giorno soothed, helping picking up the pieces. "No need to get upset. You should be careful, you might cut yourself."

"I'm so useless, so stupid, so clumsy. Oh, oh, please don't throw me away, I try, I try." Doppio's panicked breathing quickened, he clenched his fist around a large piece of ceramic cutting his palm. "Ah no!" He dropped the ceramic and looked at his bleeding hand." Oh, oh no, so useless! I'm so useless!"

Giorno pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. Giorno, at this point, was used to Doppio's self doubt.

"Here, put pressure on it, I'll clean up." Giorno said.

Doppio held the handkerchief to his cut hand closing his eyes and trying to ignore how real the pain felt. In a moment Giorno put the pieces in the garbage and threw a towel on the ground.

"Mista?" Giorno asked.

"Remember those people of interest you wanted me to look into? It seems you were right to be suspicious. We discovered that one of them and his team were planning on betraying. We tried to break them up, but they managed to escape."

"Well, that's unfortunate."

"Who was it?" Asked Doppio.

"Machiato Solo." Mista said.

Doppio shook his head, "I don't remember."

Giorno sighed. "It seems we have work to do. Doppio?"

Doppio jumped. "Yes s- GioGio?"

"You and Mista will find this Capo and his subordinates and try to bring them to our side. If it proves impossible..." Giorno walked to a cabinet and opened it, he took out a first aid kit and gestured for Doppio to come towards him.

Doppio inched closer until he was close enough for Giorno to grab him. Giorno quickly bandaged his hand. "Well, I think Mista can take care of that part."

Doppio looked back at Mista, who's face was contorted into one of disgust. Mista slammed his fist against the door. "This is bullshit! Why do I have to work with this loser?"

"You're long range, and very capable, Mista, but he can see potential threats. You need someone who can watch your back, god forbid, you die of your own bullet wounds. It'll be for the best, since I can't really be there to heal your wounds for you."

Mista squawked indignantly.

"H-Hey! I can take care of myself perfectly fine!" Mista grumbled something inaudible, definitely using very colorful language. He glared at Doppio as the young man hugged his injured hand to his chest.

"Cannolo Murolo. You remember him?

Mista folded his arms. "Yeah. He felt ashamed for what he did and bowed to you or something?"

"Correct. I will arrange for you to meet him tomorrow. His ability will probably be useful in this situation. Come along Doppio."

Doppio chewed his lip furiously, sending furtive glances to Mista, who was still staring at him with distaste. He followed Giorno to his office and went to sit in the chair near him. He pressed on his hand as he sat, almost shocking himself with its response. It was distracting, and it certainly hurt, but there was a sweetness to the pain.

"Doppio?"

He glanced up and Giorno was staring at him. He must have been talking while Doppio was distracted.

"S-sorry, I didn't hear you."

Giorno nodded gently and repeated. "Are you ok with this mission? I think it's an opportunity for your growth."

Doppio withered under Giorno's kind gaze before saying: "I would prefer not to… but if you think it's good for me, I can try."

Giorno smiled, "I don't want you relying on me, and I'm sure Mista won't let you, so you'll grow more independent, understand?"

"Y-yeah."

Giorno's mesmerizing blue eyes locked onto Doppio's own pair.

"I just want you to try your best, that's all I ask."

Doppio let in a shaky breath. "I understand. I will! I will do my best!"

Giorno beamed, and the knot in Doppio's stomach loosened and he felt a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.


	5. Chapter 5

Doppio woke up screaming. He could feel the sound of a repeating shrill that echoed throughout his soul.

He stumbled through the darkness looking for a phone, but he couldn't find one. He picked up something vaguely phone-shaped. The person he was looking for didn't answer so he kept searching. He tripped on something and landed hard.

His breathing was fast and he realized a phone wasn't even ringing.

And it never would.

At least not who he wanted it from. The boss, Diavolo, was gone.

And he was never coming back.

Doppio curled up in a ball and cried. It felt like he couldn't breathe and ragged sobs wracked his body. His eyes hurt. His throat hurt. His chest hurt. He couldn't stop crying. He curled as small as he could go hoping to leave existence. Eventually he was just gasping, snot running down his face and tears everywhere.

After what felt like an eternity, his breath slowed and returned to normal. And he was laying there numb.

Two voices whispered to him.

 _Kill Giorno. He took the boss away. This is his fault._

 _Kill yourself. Be with the boss. He will understand._

He'd had these thoughts before, like claws that sunk into his mind. They weren't _his_ thoughts, but they weren't necessarily someone else's. They came from him, but he wasn't explicitly thinking them.

He shook his head, confused. He needed… he needed to clean himself up. If he were to proceed with either option, he needed to be clean.

He got up off the hotel floor and stumbled to the bathroom. He flicked the lights on and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked awful. He shivered, wipes his face with tissues, and stripped.

Black tattoos wound their way around his arms. On closer inspection, he noticed thin white lines under the tattoos. He traced them and had the dull instinct to replicate them. But what were they? Scars… he… he could make new scars. But he refocused. With the intricate designs weaved around them, he couldn't make more scars without damaging the beautiful tattoos. He frowned. What was he thinking? What would the boss say? What would _Giorno_ say?

He shook off the thought and turned on the shower, as hot as it would go. He stepped in. The spray grazed his skin. Burning. Burning.

…

Fire.

Didn't he… did he burn down a church? An image flashed in his head. A church set ablaze.

He frowned and pushed at the thought. It felt like he was walking through a fog, pushing through only to have more obscured.

A woman. She had such a beautiful face, like Trish… Donatella? Yes. That was her name.

And… another woman. Maybe her face was also beautiful once. Her mouth sewn shut but eyes viciously alive.

Doppio's head fell against the shower wall.

What… were these? He didn't remember any of them from before. But it was like someone had tugged the curtain aside and a light shined in.

He didn't know what to do with this information. He had no idea what to do or who to talk to.

"I should… clean myself." He said with uncertainty.

He straightened. He washed himself. It was automatic like a machine.

He stepped out of the shower and starred in the mirror. Really looked. Who was that? Who was that in the mirror? It moved like him. It looked like him. He just… didn't recognize it. He looked at himself. Bright pink hair, yellow eyes, and skinny. He was himself. But… he wasn't.

He looked away from the mirror. He put his hands down on the sink and tried to breathe. What was he doing? He couldn't kill Giorno! He only had Epitaph, it was good for defense but Giorno could make life… he defeated the boss! If Diavolo couldn't defeat Giorno, surely Doppio couldn't.

He sighed and dried himself off. Wait… more thin white lines on the inside of his thighs. His hand traced over them gently. In his head, he knew this was bad. There's no way a fight could have given his body these clean white lines, uniformly placed. But, it was beautiful. He followed the lines, gently entranced with their artful display.

He collapsed on the floor. What was he doing? He couldn't kill Giorno and he couldn't kill himself. He was all that was left of the boss. The boss may have lied to him, but he still protected him. What should he do? What should he do?!

He was exhausted from the memories, from soul searching, from crying. He was so very tired. _I need sleep,_ he told himself numbly. _In the morning, I can kill Giorno or myself. But only when I'm less tired._

A cheerful claw sank into his mind. _Or you could kill both._ Scratching and clawing, urging him to hurt others or himself.

 _Go away,_ he thought fruitlessly. He curled into the towel and fell asleep on the bathroom floor as the voices lurked at the edge of his subconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

Doppio woke from banging on his door. He shot upright, only to wince. God, his neck was killing him! Uh oh. It was stuck. He tugged fruitlessly at his hair, trying to right his neck. It was at a slight angle. The more he tugged, the greater the pain.

He groaned as the knocking got louder. He stood and realized he was naked. He was also in the bathroom. Last night came rushing back… the dreams, the memories, the scars. How had he not noticed the scars? He had washed himself countless times and yet it never came up.

"Doppio! I swear to god if this is what our partnership is going to be like, I'll shoot you myself."

"Ah! One second Mista! I'm not decent." Doppio scrambled to get dressed, trying to ignore the pain in his neck.

"Giorno would never have to know, 'I just found him dead, honest'. He trusts me _way_ more than he trusts you anyway."

"Okay!" He was dismayed that he had to wear the same clothes as yesterday, but he hadn't been shopping.

"'Too bad we don't have Moody Blues,' I would say, 'if only someone hadn't-'"

Doppio threw the door open, rubbing his neck. "I get it Mista! I'm a fucking murderer but last time I checked, you killed a lot of my gang too!" He screamed.

Mista was staring at him in shock.

Shit. He shouldn't of said that. Doppio clapped both hands over his mouth. Feeling tears well in his eyes. It felt like he couldn't breathe. He spoke out of turn again and that meant he was going to get hurt. The priest was going to hurt him again and after he had tried so hard to- What? Who is-

"Say that again you piece of shit!" Mista grabbed his shirt and threw him backward.

Doppio stumbled and fell onto his back. Mista tripped over him a bit, but regained his balance and kicked him in the ribs.

"They weren't just my coworkers! They were my fucking friends, you asshole!" Another kick. Doppio curled into a ball. Please let it be over soon, please, please, please, he'd do anything, please-

"And if Giorno hadn't ordered it there'd be a bullet in your head, so-"

Suddenly Mista froze mid kick.

"What did you do?"

Doppio didn't move.

"Doppio, I thought you only had Epitaph. What the fuck is that?"

Doppio pried his eyes open only to stare at a rather large and concerning hole in the wall. He glanced up at Mista and seeing him distracted, he hurried away. At a safe distance from Mista, he peered at the hole.

"I, uh, I only have Epitaph, I didn't do that."

"Don't lie to me, I didn't do it."

"Well neither did I!" With a final tug at his neck and a sickening crack he could move his head again. Ow.

"Come on Doppio, we're a team now, don't lie to me."

He stared at him dumbly for a moment. "Didn't you just threaten to kill me?"

Mista snorted and folded his arms. "God, did you think I was serious about that?"

"Yes." Doppio said deadpan.

"Ok, well I was, and I'm sorry. The problem is how did you make that hole without me seeing it? It definitely wasn't here when I came in."

"I … suppose I might still have use of King Crimson's arms … maybe. You could have missed it because you were too busy trying to kick me?"

Mista thought it over. "I guess. Alright let's go." he turned and left.

"Wait! Where are we going?" Doppio grabbed his hair tie and keys and dashed after him.

Mista gestured with his hands in the air. "We're going after that Capo who's turned traitor."

"Yes, yes, I figured that out." Doppio struggled to follow Mista and braid his hair at the same time. "I meant a location."

"We're going to a little café near here to meet with our third member."

"Who's that?"

Mista groaned. "Do you even pay attention when people talk to you? Cannolo Murolo. He has a deck of cards that can collect information."

Doppio sighed but decided that wasn't worth commenting.

They made their way to a café that Doppio was too preoccupied with looking around to pay attention to the name. It was quaint and small, but extremely unassuming. Someone here was a stand user, their ally. He walked forward into the café only to get pulled back outside by Mista.

"You missed him, he's in the patio."

Doppio glanced toward where Mista was pointing at. Doppio stared. He was an middle aged man probably early thirties, and had a droopy hat and rather old fashioned clothes. When he glanced up to see both the boys staring, he waved them over urgently.

Doppio sat across from him.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Cannolo hissed, pulling at his hat as glanced around furtively.

"Um, looking for you?" Doppio asked.

"Yes, yes, but what's with all that pointing and staring! We'll draw attention to ourselves!"

Mista lounged in a chair, leaning over to not-so-discreetly whisper into Doppio's ear. "Yeah, Giorno warned me about this guy. He's a bit-"

Cannolo took out what looked like a plain deck of cards. He whispered to it before leaning back and sipping his coffee, eyes darting. The cards seemingly grew arms and legs, as they jumped from the table and began spreading out.

Mista cleared his throat, but continued. "Paranoid."

Doppio nodded nervously. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Murolo."

Cannolo nodded approvingly, before glancing at Mista. "At least one of you respects your elders."

Mista snorted. "First off we both outrank you and second… wait Doppio, when were you born?'

"Huh? Oh, uh…" he had to think quite a bit but at last he said. "Sometime in 1967, I think. July 4th.

Mista burst out laughing and pointed at Cannolo. "That means he's older than you, _old_ _man_."

Cannolo shushed him quickly, only to be ignored.

"Oh, is that true?" Doppio frowned.

Between laughs, Mista gasped out. "He's 31, you're 32. You're his senior!"

Cannolo scowled. "Well he looks 19! And anyway, I bet he doesn't remember most of it. Now shut up!"

Doppio look startled, "Wait, what year is it?"

"2001." Cannolo started swatting at Mista, who continued to laugh.

"What!?" Doppio's hands clapped onto the side of his face. "I'm so old! Like some creepy crypt keeper!"

Mista snorted in between laughs. "I know, right?"

Cannolo sighed. "Speaking of birthdays it's Giorno's today."

Mista balked. "Oh shit, really? Damn, ok, I'll get him something today."

The older man groaned and tugged his hat down. "Can we please focus!?"

Doppio put his face in his hands. Jesus, the last year he remembered relatively clearly was 1987. After that, the years blurred together. He'd stop caring about the date, living one day to the next. He didn't even remember the last time he celebrated his birthday.

He felt something tug on his leg. When he looked down, he spotted the queen of spades, waving at him.

He scooped her up and refocused his gaze at Cannolo.

"She's taken a liking to you, huh? Well be careful. She's bad luck, that one. If you're playing Hearts, of course."

Doppio glanced at her, before nodding.

"Now let's get down to business. This is what I know. There are 4 operatives. They-"

"I'm sorry, what!?" Mista yelled.

Doppio flinched. Oh god the priest was mad. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He had to hide, or leave, he had to-

"I knew you would be like this, Mista-" Cannolo started.

"I'm sorry, I'm out. 3 people on a team is bad enough, but 4 enemies? We're fucked! Absolutely screwed! We're all gonna die, Jesus fuck…" Mista continued to hiss explosives while Cannolo argued.

 _Father, please,_

"Mista, it's just a number-"

 _Father I didn't. I wouldn't hurt anyone, honest_

He stood up. "Well _that_ number has followed me as a curse my entire life-"

 _I'm sorry Father, I'll do anything, I'm sorry, please, just don't-_

He stood up "Mista, this is a mission, if you would just-"

 _I won't do it again, I promise. Just please, please don't-_

"And I'm telling you that-"

 _hurt me anymore._

Doppio realized he couldn't breathe. Well, he was breathing in the sense that there was air going in and out of his lungs. but his chest hurt and it felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen. A stand. This had to be a stand. Taking all the oxygen away, or making it not absorb into his bloodstream. Was it Risotto again? He tried gasping, bringing big mouthful of air into him, but it wasn't enough. Why hadn't anyone else noticed? How could Mista and the other man keep arguing like that? Why hadn't Epitaph warned him?

The world went far away. He tried to move his hand to reach for it, but all his limbs felt so heavy. He was so tired. Was he dying? Was he going to be with the boss? Was he-

"What the fuck, dude?"

Doppio groaned.

"Hey! Wake up!"

He opened his eyes to stare at Mista's stupid hat. What even was that? Was it supposed to be a beanie? He supposed blue and orange were complimentary colours, so partial credit. But he, even in a million years, would never call it fashionable.

"Doppio, what the fuck! You fucking passed out out of nowhere!" Mista griped.

He sighed and pushed himself up. "I don't know, my memories are coming back from, I don't know but.." he shook his head. "They're coming harder and faster. I think I used to know a priest? And he did some bad things to me I guess?"

"That's all very, very interesting." Mista drawled with sarcasm, "But what does that have to do with you dropping like a brick in the middle of a café?"

"I… I felt like I couldn't breathe, and the more I tried to breathe the worst it got, like there wasn't enough air..."

Cannolo sat down beside him. Doppio jumped, he hadn't realized he was there. "It's alright, son, I know what happened."

Both boys turned to stare at him.

"You do?" They said in unison.

Murolo wrinkled his nose, like there was a bad smell. "My sister, she…well, my sister was a prostitute. Not by choice, cause the boss used drugs and intimidation to keep the workers in check. I eventually got high enough to get her out and get her to a therapist. She used to have these things called panic attacks. She said they felt like she couldn't breathe, lot like you. I can teach you a few tricks."

Doppio shifted. "Used to? So… she doesn't have them anymore? She's ok?" The Queen of spades crawled on Doppio's knee and jumped up and down.

Murolo scowled and tugged at his hat. "She doesn't have them anymore. She's… she's in a better place."

Mista gawked. "You mean she's dead? How'd she die?"

Doppio flinched at his bluntness.

"She commited suicide. 10 years, 4 months and 5 days ago." Murolo picked up about half the deck that was gathered at his feet and began to shuffle, quickly waterfalling and reverse waterfalling. "But who's counting."

Doppio looked at the ground. Well, the floor. It was old carpeting, with lazy green vines on it. His head shot up and he glanced around. Doors were on either side of the hall with space enough for two people to walk side by side at most. They were in his hotel, he was pretty sure. He flinched. If the boss was here, he was sure he would get scolded for lack of observation.

Murolo glanced at Doppio. "The Queen of spades again, huh? Y'know, that was Allie's favourite card. She always tried to shoot the moon. No matter how hard it was, she thought it was funny. She'd be the first person to _literally_ shoot for the moon."

Neither of the young men looked at him. "Well, I suppose I should jump to the Intel, huh? The first guy is named Nicola Armani. A quieter guy, he's the most isolated of the group, slightly outcast. His stand is long range. The next two work in conjunction. The users are twins, Gwen and Stefano Vanga. Honestly I haven't seen them apart, not even in the bathroom, so I wouldn't be surprised if their stands worked together. The last is Macchiato Solo. He's the Capo and he's fierce, he's definitely got a single minded focus. His stand is short range, but that's all I know."

"Wait, how are they twins if one is a boy and one is a girl?" Mista asked.

Murolo blinked. "Not identical you dolt, fraternal twins!"

Mista began to protest his intelligence. When Doppio felt Epitaph activated.

He saw his arm slashed open wide.

 **Shit**.


	7. Chapter 7

Doppio whipped around, eyes wide as he stares into the eyes of a stand. Human shaped, with a tight mask, bright green body and eyes narrowed.

"Looks like the boss' lackeys aren't so inattentive afterall." There is mirth in the stands. It reaches back to prepare a strike.

Doppio flinches hard enough that he knocks himself off balance. As he falls he flails his arms upward.

The stand barely misses his head and instead slashes his arm, causing blood to spray outward. Doppio cries out pulling his arm close to stem the bleeding. Cannolo and Mista whip around, seeing Doppio

"What the hell? What happened?" Mista asks staring at the blood that sprayed across the wall.

"Stand. There was a stand." Doppio stutters.

Mista whips out his pistol eyeing around. "Well, where is it?"

Doppio stand shakily, clutching his arm. "I don't know, it disappeared."

Murolo narrowed his eyes as the cards scatter looking around.

The three stood back to back to back, looking around warily. Eventually the cards returned and whispered to Murolo.

"There's no one in the rooms close by…" he reports, face twisted in confusion.

"Must have been a stand," Mista snorts. "Let's go ask around."

"Um…" Doppio who had been holding the cut closed, not wanting to be vulnerable with a stand around, but he's starting to feel light headed. "My arm…"

Mista snorts and leans toward him. "It can't be that bad, let me see."

Shakily Doppio lifts his hand.

Oh… oh god he's going to throw up.

The cut went deep, deep enough that he can see individual veins and arteries, they pulse blood with his heart. He feels his eyes go wide and his heart speeds up at the sight. The blood spurts faster. The tissue around the blood vessels are a sick shade of yellow, skin or fat, maybe.

Doppio begins to giggle hysterically. He isn't sure what, but something is hilarious about seeing his insides lay bare. He feels giddy and relieved, like he'd just completed a mission and the boss praises him.

Sure it hurts, but there's a pleasure about the pain, something indescribable, something soothing. He moves his finger to poke the exposed tissue a huge grin on his face. What will it feel like? It's clearly squishy, but will it be soft? Will he be able to feel the holes that were cut open by the stand?

Before he can touch it, fabric and a firm hand claps down on the wound. Doppio inhales sharply.

"We don't need it getting infected. We need to get you to Giorno." Murolo mutters, clearly frustrated.

The odd flutter in his chest drops like a stone. Take the pain away? They can't. He just god it and it feels so good! So… addicting… like he can't get enough.

"T-that's fine. I'll be fine, really."

He glanced up to see Murolo has taken the jacket off his own back to staunch the bleeding. He's wearing suspenders, and they suit him somehow.

"Don't be ridiculous, boy, you at the least need stitches, trust me, I'm an old hand at injuries. Keep pressure here, ok?" Murolo waits for him to comply, before determinedly marching toward the closest exit.

"Oh gee! Look at all that blood he's going to bleed out at this rate! That's… another one huh, Mista?"

Doppio starts and looks at Mista only to have his gaze drawn downward. 6 bright yellow figures, each with numbers on their head are floating around the boy.

"W-what?"

"Oh shut it, I don't count this asshole as one of my friends, and anyway, he ain't gonna bleed out! Giorno will save his sorry ass."

"How can you have more than one stand?" Doppio gapes.

"I'll explain when your life isn't at risk." Mista snorts and reaches out to shove him. Without thinking Doppio flinches hard, colliding with the wall. He feels his heart jump in his throat, and he shoves the side of his face into the wall. Since he's tensing every part of him, without thinking he squeezes his injured arm.

At the same time, flood of relief and pain courses through him. He feels someone grab his arm and pull until he stumbles after them, but honestly, he doesn't care, as long as he keeps get to squeeze his arm, he doesn't care what happens to him.

Giorno makes short work of the injury, if Doppio had more spine he'd ask him to heal it part of the way, but leave a little of the injury left, if only to ease himself.

But he doesn't though, so he remains silent. He watches mournfully as Golden Experience Requiem makes the cut disappear without even a scar in its place.

Murolo is looking around nervously, and Mista is scowling as together they make their report. Doppio stares out a window and wishes he could lose time like he used to.

"Psst, Mista."

He grumbles and moves his arm over his ear.

"Mista!" A sharp poke in his side.

He *knows* he who it is, and what they want. He knows he should get up, and take care of their needs.

Instead he doesn't open his eyes and swipes at his side.

For a moment he thinks he's going to go back to sleep when he feels a nip at his bare side.

He yelps shoots straight up holding the culprit in his hands.

"What did I tell you about biting me?" He growls.

Number 7 grins. "Not to do it."

"And yet…" Mista grits out.

"But Mista! We're hungry! You had an early dinner and now we're famished." Number 3 puts its eyes wide in the attempt to beg.

"That sounds like a personal problem." Mista says, eyes narrowed.

5 wails. "I'm so hungry Mista! Why are you so mean! My stomach hurts so bad! Giorno would never be this mean!"

He growls and gets up and goes to the fridge. Nothing. He feels around the table and counters, trying to both find food and avoid turning on the light.

One of the pistols flips on the light.

He hisses and covers his eyes. "That's exactly what I was trying not to do!" He shouts.

"But we're hungry!" Whines 2.

Mista sighs and rubs his eyes, before glancing around. Ah shit.

"There's no food!" Cries 6.

"I noticed." Mista groans, as he begins to dress. He throws on a low hanging tank top and some sweatpants, relieved with the change of clothes, he pulls beanie on his head grabs some cash and shoes, before makes his way out of the hotel. He was sure there was a cornerstone around here somewhere and they're usually open 24 hours.

"So what do you think of the new guy, Mista?" One of the pistols asks.

"Completely useless. He's going to get me or him killed one of these days."

"Aww don't be so hard, he seems nice." Says another one.

"Yeh well he also got my friends killed, so…" He leaves the statement hanging in the air. _So he's as good as dead to me_.

"You're always so judgemental Mista, you should try to be more understanding."

Mista grunts.

"Don't say that! Doppio was helping the boss! Don't you care about Buccelletti or Abbacchio or Narancia?"

Mista sighs at the wailing noise that ensues. "Leave 5 alone."

"You're no fun." Says one of them.

Mista groans. It's too early for this it's around midnight and he's tired. He goes and gestures for the Pistols to each choose an item, hopefully these will last longer, then the last bunch. He yawns and stretches, letting them browse, when he hears something metal hit the floor.

"Goddamnit." He glances at the cashier, gives an apologetic smile, before looking for the noise. Of course the Sex pistols can't…

Something both humanoid, yet very not human spots him and dashes to the left.

Ah shit. It matches the description of the stand Doppio saw. Mista dodges behind an aisle.

"Sex pistols, to me!" While they come to him he peaks around the aisle. Perfect. He moves and takes aim, using number 1 to shoot the bottom can in a pyramid of cans, the stand smiles, not seeming to realize Mista wasn't aiming for it, before the tower topples. The Stand hisses and scrambles while Mista gives chase.

The Stand moves to open the employee room door. _Perfect a dead end._ He lines up a shot.

But then the door opens and a crazy degree of wind is let out of the door. _What the fuck?_ The wind seems to be pulling him towards the door, like a vacuum. He flails and barely manages to catch the door frame. _Think Mista!_ He glances around wildly for a way to climb out of the door way, as his body is being held horizontal in the air by the force of the wind. He glances behind him. It's like a tornado you see in movies! It's grey and whipping around everything!

He grits his teeth. Searching wildly, but everything is either bolted to the floor out out of reach or had already flown out the door. _Wait_. The light! There's wires in the lights! All he needs to do is shoot them out and he's got a way out. _Let's hope they hold my weight_. He holds and aims number 2 at the light and fires.

The forces of the wind is so much that for a moment the bullet freezes in mid-air, thankfully the sex pistols aren't beholden to physics so he rides the bullet into the light. It shatters and the whole fixture is loosed giving him lots of room to crawl out. He vehemently slams the door shuts and when it closes he drops to the floor, panting.

When he glanced up the stand is there and he fires his remaining four shots into it. The stand dissipates and Mista groans in relief, letting his head hit the floor. Oh dear god, that was close. He stands stiffly. Practically all the food from the shelves went out the door. He awkwardly walks to the cash register scratching the back of his head, not sure what to say, when he sees the stand standing behind the man. Mista aims at it and pulls the trigger, only to realize he's out of ammo and didn't bring extra. As he's glancing around, hoping against hope there's a convenient shelf full of rounds, he hears something has started beeping, he focuses on the stand. Who is holding a lighter to the fire alarm. Mista feels thee first drop of sprinklers before he sprints, he does **not** want to get wet. He throws the entrance open and darts out into the night.

Or… he should. He glances around, it's too dark, no starry sky, no lights, and it's pleasantly warm, no chilly bite.

A light turns on and only for him to train his pistol at the culprit. Only to meet eyes with a bleary eyed Giorno.

"Mista? What's wrong? How did you get in?"

Mista eases the gun away from his boss. What? What happened? They could have killed him, put him right back in that hurricane but they didn't. Instead… instead this wasn't an attack, this was a **warning**.

"Stay here." Mista says, and bolts out the door until he gets to Doppio's door, he slams on it.

 **Fuck**


End file.
